


Four Unfortunate Souls

by AlphaRedLeader



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Suicide mention, also major character death in like every chapter, anyway here's what happened after it all, basically this is red omen in four chapters, chapter three is kicking my ass but i'm trying, i should probably add a trigger warning, ideas that are important to red omen, in chapter three - Freeform, mostly a dump of ideas, so uh, which yes that is still going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaRedLeader/pseuds/AlphaRedLeader
Summary: The End was only the beginning.What happened after was so much worse.





	1. Blood Red

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Red Omen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048322) by [AlphaRedLeader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaRedLeader/pseuds/AlphaRedLeader). 



When that robot exploded, you were so sure that it wouldn't be the end of you. Everyone else thought you were dead; in some sick way you wanted to thank him for destroying what you'd worked so hard to get. Your plan was flawless - what happened?

Did you get attached?

When that robot exploded, you died. Sure, your body was alive but your mind was damaged and your friends would never know what became of you. But that wasn't enough for you, was it? You forged the documents, made yourself dead, all but changed your name because  _what's in a name?_ They would never know the man behind the title, because it wasn't you.

That arm poisoned you; it stole from you everything you had and twisted you up and chewed you to pieces and spat out the abomination you call Red Leader. It gave you delusions of a world you controlled and whispered to you at night of the nations you'd conquer but  _what did you conquer_? What did you control? A handful of nations that you won over with an even smaller handful of soldiers.

You could not call them an army, Red Leader, but you fancied yourself king of the castle and flaunted your power like it was yours to show off. It was never yours - none of it was. You had a goal that was just out of reach, and through the pain and the madness you snatched what you could from the hands of others and used it to build and create and destroy. 

Single-handedly (in more definitions than one) you raised an army and trained them from  _nothing_ into a force so big and powerful that you thought yourself a god of destruction. You shook the world with the drums of war and took everything you could get your hands on. You built an empire so large it rivaled anything that history had ever seen before.

It was only a matter of time before they opened their eyes. Everywhere they looked they saw red; everywhere they looked they saw you.

They were angry. 

The rebellions were small and disorganized. Chaos in one city, destruction in another. You crushed them beneath the cold metal of your hand without hesitation, but like a cockroach they crawled away ever living and ever surviving. They never died, even when you brought the world down around them. 

Then he rose, a beacon of light in your blood-drenched world and you hated him for it. As quickly as you had risen he was tearing your castle asunder. Small rebellions became large, became organized, until you were facing an army of opposition. 

Your plan was  _flawless_ , Red Leader - what happened?

_Did you get scared?_

Did you see the end before you, echoed in his eyes and in his voice and in his crushing grip? What did you see when you were on your knees before him?

Did you feel betrayed, Red Leader? Imagine how he must have felt. Did you see him pull the trigger?

_Did you feel the bullet in your skull?_


	2. Abyss Blue

There lies a darkness in you that you cannot drown. You have tried, yes, but no amount of alcohol can kill the monster that runs wild in your veins and in your heart. It only keeps you down, keeps you at bay, keeps you from killing.

You have killed before.

You think yourself a monster and hide who you are behind the flask and the blank expression and the cruel words, but you cannot escape the blood on your hands. You saw it in his eyes, Tom, when you let that harpoon fly. You knew he would die, and you did not bring yourself to care.

Within three months it crushed you.

In those three months, it all fell apart. The world was against you, what place does someone like you have? Beside them? Never.

You locked yourself away and even when they had to pry the door open and drag you to your feet, to take you to the hospital, did you still think yourself one of them? The alcohol poisoned your mind and your body. You are no better than the man you killed, and you see it in the mirror even now.

The years wore on you. Every day was a struggle, a fight, as you tried to make ends meet. They helped you, yes, but things were never the same. You became hollow, and they grew distant. You stopped speaking to them altogether, distanced yourself, and let the monster overtake you.

You let yourself drown in regret until there was nothing left of you, and you grew feral.

All at once there was red, covering your eyes and smothering you. You thought it would be the alcohol that drowned you - but it was the red instead. You felt yourself falling victim to a ghost.

That ghost, that dead man walking, he _captured_  you, _tamed_ you, _used_ you, and when you could no longer fight he reconditioned you, stole from you and made you submit until you were his alone. If the you from all those years ago could see you now, a broken man.

You would not believe the tears you shed for him.

Of course, when the rebellions started you were sent to fight, for there was no weapon more devastating than the one he made you into. But even as bodies fell at your feet and the screams echoed in your ears you began to see the signs. 

A figure in the shadows, beckoning survivors away. You could not bring yourself to hunt them. 

When he came for you, you went with him. You shed the chains you'd been bound with and you reclaimed your name and your heart.

You fought against the red; you were the frontline, impassible, protective, a shield. You used it against him. 

It all came back the day it was over. 

A bang, a splatter, a crack and the tears were on your face as you remembered the things you'd set aside. You remembered the nights you shared, the long talks, the drinks at midnight. 

You remembered the pain of loss. You remembered the way that weapon felt in your hands and you remembered the cry of devastation that in that moment rang through your ears.

_I am not your friend._


	3. Bruise Purple

Out of everyone he hurt, you considered yourself the primary victim. Whatever love you had in your heart - be it for yourself or your friends or god forbid  _be it for him_ \- was gone in an instant, the fire of a missile.   
  
You masked it behind vanity.

They did not need to know that when you looked in the mirror - and there were so many mirrors - you felt your heart ache because it was all over, this was the beginning of the end and you could feel the world crumbling around you. You put on a smile, you told them you loved yourself and you lied. 

You became so good at lying. 

The years were unkind to you for it. The face you once adored became hated, for you couldn't look in the mirror without seeing every lie you ever told written on your skin and in your eyes. You stopped taking care of yourself and you suffered for it. 

By the time you saw that man, that ghost, that  _shell_ , you could not stand to even think of yourself. Somehow he still saw something in you. 

 _My brave little soldier_. He mocked you with that, made you his, stole you away. You knew you were not the only one - you saw  _him_ in the shadows as that ghost led you to his room. You couldn't bring yourself to care, and you let him take you. He said he loved you, like nothing changed.   
  
He lied, but so had you.

You tore him apart from the inside out, freeing prisoners behind his back and when the day came that an old friend set you free, you looked him in the eye and got on the plane. You took the shot. 

You missed.

The rebellion was successful, and though you were not its strongest fighter nor its brilliant leader, they had you to thank. In taking that shot, you weakened him. You opened the fissure that the rebellion tore open, letting the red spill out. 

The day it happened, you could not look at him; just as you could not look at yourself so many years ago. In that time you had learned again that you were of worth, maybe not to him, but you were a hero now. All of you were - after all, you killed the villain of the story and won the world back over. When the shot rang out, you felt the gun in your hand all over again though you stood to the side. While they celebrated the fall of the mad king, you stepped aside to give them their glory. 

You had nothing to fight for anymore. The war was over.

You felt the gun in your hand and pulled the trigger. 

 _Dark_. 


	4. Envy Green

You cried for them. You shed tears and blood for them, and  _this_ is how they repaid you. 

The gun in your hand, the bullet in his skull, the broken sob to your left and the cold silence to your right. 

You gave them your whole self, and in the end only you were left. 

Tord thought himself some kind of leader, some kind of king or god or  _whatever_. He killed thousands of people without remorse, thinking the world was his to take and destroy and build. You began to realize he was acting like some sort of child. You could not believe you cried for his death, and he had the nerve - the audacity even - to  _come back_ and cause so much pain and bloodshed. 

You saw the man for what he was and you put him down. That should have been enough; why wasn't it enough? You wept for him that night, and never spoke of him again if only because it hurt too much to try. 

Tom was a mess; somewhere along the line he had changed, more monster than human anymore and without missing a beat he could switch from despising the man who called himself Red Leader to loving him dearly. It was jarring, left you reeling, but you would bear with him through it. 

You could remember the look on his face when you came for him and helped him shake away what Tord had done. You saw the shock, the fear, the adoration, the  _freedom_. He'd been elated. It took so much time, but you grabbed what little remained of him in that reconditioned shell and pulled him back. 

The day it ended - Tom cried. You couldn't remember a time that he'd cried like that, in all your years of knowing him. These were not drunken tears, nor were they angry, nor sad, nor happy. These tears were betrayal in liquid form, and even as you consoled him you knew how much it must burn. You knew that betrayal. He disappeared after that, and you assumed the monster had taken over again.

You never saw him again.

Matt was gone so quickly you couldn't have stopped him. He took the gun from your hands to let you 'celebrate' - though god knows you were doing anything but that - and in that split second you knew what he was planning. You couldn't stop him; he'd made his decision. When you turned your back you heard it, and you felt your heart break, but you didn't turn around. You kept walking. He'd made his choice, and he had chosen to end himself with the war.

You made your choice too.

They considered you Red Leader's foil. You were the rebel king, the face of it all. You saved hundreds, spared millions, you were his opposite. 

But you were not a ruler. You freed them, and they took the reigns from there. 

With the war's end, you'd lost everyone. You remembered the last things they said to you, and you see them when you close your eyes. 

In a flash of blood red, you see  _Its been a good fight._

In a splash of abyss blue, you see  _I won't forget you._

In a blotch of bruise purple, you see  _We finally did it._

You paint yourself in envy green. You are not jealous of Tord's achievements, nor Tom's freedom, nor Matt's peace.

You are jealous that they are together now, in some degree. You would join them, but to do so would be breaking a promise; not to them, but to the people you saved. In the years after it all was over, you helped them rebuild. You traveled, you spoke, you healed. You cleaned up the mess. 

All those years ago, when you were new and thought things were over, that it had all come to an end just like that - you made a promise to yourself. You were their friend, and you'd be with them no matter what. 

The years aged you, made you hard and strong but through it all you kept your kindness. Even now you can feel them near, calling to you.

You can see Tord's regretful gaze and you taste the apology on his lips. 

You can hear Tom's laugh, as he offers you a one-armed hug.

You can see Matt's smile and you know he thinks only good of you. 

You close your eyes _._

_This is the end._


End file.
